


What You Deserve

by LizardOnIce27



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, onesided Peterick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:59:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizardOnIce27/pseuds/LizardOnIce27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick reaches near the bottom of his downwards spiral, and Pete decides to get him help. He takes him to a psychiatric hospital, knowing that he can't fix Patrick alone. Patrick soon meets Joe, another patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Self Hate

I bite my lip, feeling the cool metal of the razor blade dance across my skin. I never took myself for a cutter, but here I am. Now I understand why he simply couldn’t stop all those years ago. I’ve thought about suicide but it would be far too easy. I’d have no trouble stepping off a building, drowning myself, shoving a plastic bag over my head, taking handfuls of pills... but I won’t. Because suicide is easy, I don’t deserve easy. I deserve to live with the pain. I deserve to slice more pain into my skin and bleed all over the tile floor. I deserve to feel the guilt after flooding the apartment with my own blood. What I don’t deserve is to be gone, before the guilt can come. I don’t deserve to escape the self hate and mental torture. And when suicide becomes tempting, I just cut a little deeper, drink half a bottle of vodka and call him, insisting that I’m fine, nothing’s wrong. And he, only half believing me, sighs and hangs up, going back to his boyfriend he’s always with. Now I’m in no way aiming for attention, but when he can tell something’s up, wouldn’t a friend check it out instead of fucking his lanky boyfriend with as much personality as a brick wall? I’m glad he doesn’t come though, because then there’d be questions about the blood staining the floor and the strong smell of alcohol. I wipe off my arm with a wet towel and look over the cuts. None are too deep but I’d better clean them anyways. I get up and grab the peroxide, holding my arm over the sink before spilling a few caps full onto the cuts. I suck in a breath through my teeth at the stinging and close my eyes tight, gripping the sink with my other hand. Once the stinging subsides a bit, I pour a little more over it, just to be sure. After it finishes bubbling through the cut, I rinse off my arm under the sink and dry it off, putting the cap back on the peroxide. I throw away the razor blade, figuring it’s been used enough and hell, I have a ton more in the bathroom cabinet. Then I go for the vodka. I open the bottle and quickly gulp down a third of the remaining half of the vodka, before coughing at the burn in my throat, spilling some onto my shirt. When the coughing subsides, I drink more. Once I finish the bottle I set it down and close my eyes. I feel dizzy and lightheaded. I also feel as if I’m registering things a few seconds behind. It’s like when you watch something on tv and the audio and video don’t match up. I open my eyes and stumble towards my bedroom, feeling far more uncoordinated than usual. I roll my eyes, noticing the missing calls and many texts. I squint at the bright light from my phone and quickly go into my settings to dim it. 

 

_  
Hey, ‘Trick what’s up?_

_‘Trick?_

_Hey I tried calling....getting worried._

_Answer the phone._

_Goddamn it Patrick I’m on my way.  
_

Shit, the last one was sent twenty minutes ago. I jump, hearing loud banging on the front door. Fuck. I’m drunk, and my arms are covered in cuts. I can fix this. 

I quickly change my vodka scented shirt for a long sleeved one and spray on, probably too much, cologne. I grab the mouthwash and pour it into my mouth, swishing it around until I can’t taste the vodka. I spit it out and grab the air freshener, spraying it all over the house. He knocks harder.

“PATRICK!”

I stumble over to the door, completely forgetting about the vodka bottle sitting in plain sight. I open it and try to act sober, “Heyyy Pete.”

“What the hell man? I’ve tried calling!”

“Sorry I was’ashweep.” I slur.

He glares at me before shoving past me and picking up the bottle, “Are you fucking kidding me!?”

“Wha’s wrong? It’s juss vodka I’m old enough to drink, Peter.” I roll my eyes.

“Yeah? How much have you had?” he crosses his arms.

“Just a few drinks.”

“You’re a terrible liar. What the fuck has been up with you lately? You haven’t come out of this apartment in weeks.”

“Yes I have, they don’t deliver vodka.” I giggle.

He glares at me, “Patrick you hate drinking.”

“I hate me too so it’s like, it just makes sense.” I shrug.

“HOW does that makes sense? How could you even convince yourself that it does?”

I roll my eyes and try to walk away, but he grabs my arm, making me whimper in pain.

He takes in a breathe before shoving up my sleeve. His face pales as he bites his lip, “Patrick get your shoes on.”

“What? I’m not leaving.”

“Get your fucking shoes on right now or I’ll drag you out of here without them.”

I roll my eyes and put on a pair of shoes, “There, But I’m not leaving.”

“Wanna bet?” He snaps, snatching the hat off my head and grabbing a fistful of my hair.

“Ow!”

He pulls me to the door, locking it and slamming it behind us as he pulls me to his car.

“Ow Pete, fuck! What are you doing?” I follow him against my will.

He shoves me into the back seat and locks the doors as he walks to his side. I roll my eyes and unlock the door. I pull the door handle and push, but it doesn’t open. Child safety lock, shit.

“Pete this isn’t funny!”

He buckles his seat belt, “You’re right. Nothing about this is funny.” he pulls out of the driveway.

“Wh-Where are you taking me?”

“You won’t let me help, so I’m taking you somewhere that you won’t be able to refuse help.”

“Y-You don’t mean...”

He sighs and nods, “Yes. I’m admitting you to the Chicago Psychiatric Hospital.”

“Y-You can’t do that! Y-You need two adults for that and I’m sure you have to be related.”

“One person significant in your life with proof of your self harm is enough. And I’m your emergency contact at the hospital, they can pull those records. The proof is all over your arms.”

“Y-You’ve been fucking planning this!”

“What did you expect? You wouldn’t let me help and I’m going to fucking make sure you get help. I was afraid I was too late tonight. I was going to wait until tomorrow morning but after seeing it firsthand I knew it couldn’t wait.”

“You can’t do this to me you traitor!” I seethe.

“I can, and I will.”

The rest of the drive is silent.


	2. How to Almost Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his way up to his room, Patrick attempts to escape, but ends up in his room with Joe Trohman, and eventually learns about the buddy system.

After being admitted, and a brief goodbye to Pete (his genuine and sad, mine cold and bitter), I am escorted into the elevator. Well, not so much escorted as dragged through the halls kicking and screaming, taking every opportunity to leap out of their arms and try to escape. After the first few times, I realize they’re going to keep catching me but I refuse to stop trying. One of the security guards hits floor eleven. While he has one hand off me, I bite the other and be sure to hit all the ones in between, from the ground floor. They both groan and tighten their grip on me as the door opens on the second floor. I try to struggle away but fail. But by the fifth floor I decide to stop struggling, make them think I’ve given up. My opportunity comes as the doors begin to slide open at the ninth floor. They assume I’ve given up, so only one of them holds onto my arm. When it’s fully open, I kick the guard holding my arm and sprint out of the elevator and down the emergency stairs, setting off the fire alarm. In the commotion I’m sure to find a way out. I go down a few flights of stairs before taking a door to one of the floors, deciding that since they saw me take the stairs, that’s the first place they’ll look. The hallway is empty and I can hear that the alarm I set off has stopped. Shit, I won’t be able to sneak out through a group. I glance up and see a camera, hanging from the ceiling, pointing right at me. Fuck. I run down the hall and continuously punch the down button to get the elevator to stop here. When the door opens I squeak and run in the opposite direction, both guards running after me. I go back to the stairs and run down as fast as I can, nearly falling more than a few times. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, the first floor, my escape, a woman with dark hair going gray, horn rimmed glasses and a night robe on stands with her arms crossed.

“Mr. Stump, I had hoped to get acquainted with you tomorrow morning after we’d all had a decent night’s sleep. Now please go up to your room or I will have to sedate you.”

“I don’t belong here!” I say desperately, “L-Look my friend just made some mistake, he assumed things I’m _fine_!”

“Mr. Stump I can see the marks on your arm, as you wearing a short sleeved shirt. I assure you, your friend made no mistake and had every right to bring you here. Go upstairs, room fifteen on the eleventh floor and I’m sure your roommate will explain some things to you.”

“Roommate?”

She nods, “Yes, we have a bit of a buddy system here, but you can ask him all about that. Now, get upstairs.” she says in a firm voice.

“A-Aren’t the doors locked?”

“The doors will open with ease from the outside of the door, but once you’re inside you must stay put until morning. You’re welcome to use the elevator instead of the stairs, if you’d like.”

I nod and walk around her, going back into the elevator with my head down, just barely catching the two guards breathing heavily.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you two are here at all.” I hear her sharp voice as the elevator doors close.

I sigh and lean against the wall of the elevator as it goes up to the eleventh floor. This really isn’t practical for a psychiatric hospital. If it wasn’t for her I would have escaped. When the doors open I squint at th bright fluorescent lights hitting the bleached white floors and walls. The first room is one, then two, then three so I keep walking until I circle almost completely around to room fifteen. I bite my lip and open the door, slightly surprised that the light is on. I look around and see that my “roommate” is wide awake and staring at me. I push up my glasses and sit on the other bed, ignoring the man with very curly brown hair.

“So _you’re_ the one raising hell.” He grins.

“That’d be me.” I reply, kicking off my shoes.

“Oh, here.” he stands up and walks to a two sided dresser, “You unfortunately don’t get to wear your clothes from home, instead we get plain cotton shirts and sweatpants. They’ll also take your shoes, guy a few years ago tried to hang himself with the laces, idiot, so you’ll get slippers. They haven’t really seen about your size or anything but you can roll up a pair of my pant legs and-”

“Hey!”

He snorts, “Sorry shorty, and the shirts are like huge so you might not even be able to see your feet-”

“I’m NOT that short!”

He holds out his hand, “Where are my manners? Hello NOT that short, I’m Joe.” he grins.

I cross my arms, ignoring his hand held out to shake mine, “Patrick. If I couldn’t wear my clothes why didn’t they tell me?”

“Because it’s like, late and you tried to break out.”

“Of course I did, I don’t belong here!”

He gives me a sad smile, “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

“I’m not in denial! I had everything,” I point at my healing cuts decorating my arms, “this, under control! I don’t need help!”

He frowns and pats my back, “No one has control over it, man. That stuff, it controls you.”

“I’m sorry, you seem to be confusing _your_ drug addiction to my cutting _situation_.” I snap.

He bites his lip, “My past drug addiction, actually... fuck is it that obvious?”

I shrug, “You have a very stoner, flower child personality sorry.”

He snorts, “Flower child?”

“You know what I meant.” I roll my eyes.

“Well yeah, okay you’re right there. But you seem to be missing something.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” I glare at him.

“Cutting releases endorphins. _Very_ addictive. Plus I can smell the alcohol.” He smirks, “You may act like you’re better than me, better than everyone here, but we both know the truth.”

With that, he shuts off the light and gets into bed, pulling the blanket up to his shoulder and facing the wall, away from me.

 

I don’t completely understand the buddy system thing they have going here, and since Joe and I got off to a bad start, he hasn’t explained anything. Which is fine, I don’t need his help anyways.

 

“Good Morning, Mr. Stump.” the woman I ran into while trying to escape says from behind her desk. 

I fidget nervously and sit down, mumbling a hello.

“I hope the rest of your night was uneventful, I’m Dr. Rhodes. I’m going to start off with telling you the rules, three of them which you broke last night. 1. Do not use the stairs unless there is a fire or you are escorted. 2. Do not go anywhere without a guard, doctor, or your roommate. 3-”

“Well about the roommate... see, we got off to a bad start-”

“Then the two of you will have to fix it. You are both significant to each other’s recovery.”

“But I said some things-”

“Then apologize.”

“But I can’t just-”

“You’re roommate is Mr. Trohman, right?”

“I-I don’t know Joe never told me his last name...”

She nods, “Joe Trohman. He is very kind, and I believe he will be forgiving considering you had a rough night.”

I doubt that, he seemed like he was still pretty irritated this morning.

 

“J-Joe?” I tug on his sleeve as we wait in line for lunch.

“What?” he snaps.

“I-I’m s-sorry. I-I just...I-I didn’t expect to get put into a mental hospital a-and then I failed to escape s-so I.. I took out my anger at the wr-wrong person. Y-You were only being nice and I-I just wanted to keep being angry. I-I don’t think I-I’m any better than y-you because, y-yeah you’re here. B-But you seem a l-lot more stable tha-than I am.”

He smiles and wraps his arm around my shoulders, “It’s okay, shorty.”

“Patrick.”

He nods, “Patrick.” he sighs, “I should have been easier on you, the first night is the worst. You’re still processing the shock of being here...”

We move up in line as I ask, “S-So what’s the buddy system thing?”

“Basically? You and I are attached at the hip, unless one of us is in private therapy, but we also have a therapy session together, after lunch actually.”

“S-So if I have to go to the bathroom..”

“I have to walk there with you.”

“Wh-What about showering?”

“We’ll have to shower in adjacent stalls.”

“S-So we’re like, each other’s constant shadows?”

He nods, “We’re here to keep each other out of trouble.”

I scowl, “I feel like I’m back in kindergarten, having to hold another kid’s hand on a field trip.”

He chuckles, “We’ll only hold hands if you want to.”

I blush, “No thanks.”

 

We sit down with our food. Joe practically inhales it, while I just pick at it. He nudges me and points to my food. It’s not that it’s bad, I just don’t feel really up to eating. But I got myself into enough trouble last night, so I sigh and start eating. Joe claps a hand on my back and drinks his water. When lunch ends, we have enough time to both go to the restroom before Roommate Therapy.


	3. Cynical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Patrick meet with Dr. Rhodes, and Patrick lashes out.

Dr. Rhodes sits behind her desk, hands closed and resting on the desk as we walk in. She looks up at us through her horn-rimmed glasses and motions for us to sit. Joe plops onto the couch and I follow him, sitting down awkwardly.

“Have the two of you patched things up?” she asks, not wasting any time.

I blush and nod, as Joe grins and throws his arm over my shoulders, “You kidding?” he pulls me closer, “Best buddies.”

She nods, “Alright, well what was your argument about last night?”

Joe rolls his eyes, “Patrick was just freaking out.”

“About what?”

“Being forced into a car and driven here by someone who’s supposed to be my best friend.” I snap, wishing Pete was within arms reach so I could strangle him.

“Yeah? My friend Andy brought me here. I was _pissed_ he said we were going to Waffle House.”

“Yeah.... Pete just grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to his car.”

“Ouch.” Joe’s eyes widen.

“Mr. Wentz is also paying for your stay here in hopes you recover from your self destructive behavior, I wouldn’t judge him too harshly.” she says sharply.

Joe nudges my arm and says softly, “You’re going to be pissed at him for a few weeks. But then you’re going to start understanding it.”

I sigh, “So basically I lashed out at Joe, the end.”

“How did you lash out?” she scribbles in her note pad.

“I said stuff that I shouldn’t have.” I cross my arms. I’m not playing her fucking game.

Joe rolls his eyes, “I told him that he didn’t control the cutting, it controlled him. So he said that I was mistaking it with my drug addiction. And I told him that he’s no better off than anyone else here.”

She nods, “Is the issue between the two of you resolved?”

“We apologized to each other, and I can’t speak for Patrick but I hold no grudges. I get that he was just freaking out over being put in here. I wasn’t exactly calm when I was admitted.”

“I don’t really have room to be angry with you.” I shrug

She nods, “Alright, have you explained our roommate system to him?”

He nods, “Yeah, we stay together and try to keep each other out of trouble.”

“And?” she crosses her arms.

He sighs, “And basically if you feel as if you can’t talk to her about something, you can come to me anytime.”

I nod, “I’m assuming that works both ways?”

“It’s supposed to. Joseph has been a bit stubborn with opening up at all. He helped Brendon, his last roommate out a lot, but Brendon asked for a new roommate because he didn’t feel he was helping Joe at all.”

Joe snorts, “And because the guy he’s been drooling over just lost his roommate.”

My eyes widen, “Lost?”

Joe shakes his head, “Not like that. He’s very much alive, he’s just out of here.”

“So, what he’s sleeping in a room with a guy he wants to-” I cut myself off and look up to her, “Is that even _allowed_?”

“Technically speaking, no. But if two people in here happen to find each other and being together doesn’t seem to be a danger to either of them, then we turn our heads.”

My eyes widen, “Are you _insane_!? Everyone here is unstable. There’s the fucking danger! What if they break up and one of them has a fucking breakdown from it and tries to strangle themselves with the fucking bed sheets!”

Joe groans, “Patrick shut up I can’t sleep without a blanket.”

“Cynicism won’t get you very far, Mr. Stump.” she replies, “Perhaps instead they help heal each other. Love is more powerful than people realize.”

“ _Love_ is bullshit! Love is a bunch of chemical reactions in your brain that can cause you do to stupid shit, especially if it’s onesided!” I raise my voice.

She raises an eyebrow, “Speaking from personal experience?”

“The person I love put me in this fucking place!” I snap angrily before standing up, “You know what? You can trap me here as long as you want because after I get out of here I have nothing! But you can’t fucking make me talk. You can’t make me cooperate! You think you’re so goddamn brilliant with your stupid degree, talking down to me like I’m a fucking child. You think you can just fucking control everyone around you, and maybe with most people you can. But I’m not one of those people!” I walk out and slam the door behind me.

I go to our room and slam that door too, kicking the wall before sitting on the bed, clenching my fists so tightly my fingernails dig into my palms. Fingernails. I unclench my fists and glance at the door before sinking my fingernails into my left arm. The blunt ends of my fingernails don’t do much, won’t even break the skin. Shit. I look up at the door before proceeding to my second option. I bite my arm hard, dragging my teeth down a bit to break the skin. I move up my arm and close my eyes, biting as hard as I can.

“Patrick!” Joe hurries over and grabs my arm, “Fuck!” he grabs my hand and pulls me to the door that he kept open with one of his slippers. He drags me to the nearest bathroom and shoves my arm under the faucet as he turns on the cold water, “That’ll stop the bleeding...” he mumbles to himself.

“And if I don’t want it to stop?”

He sighs, “You also don’t want to get isolation, idiot.”

“Isolation? I thought this place was all about the buddy system.”

“Generally, yes. But if you hurt yourself, they put you in isolation so they can keep an eye on you. I’m supposed to prevent this sort of thing... fuck I was only a few minutes behind you, maybe I should have left when you did-”

“Joe, stop. This isn’t your fault.”

“Well I-”

“Stop.” I grab his arm with my other hand, “Look, I fucked up okay? No need for you to kill yourself with guilt. This is on me.”

He bites his lip and grabs paper towels, “I’m supposed to tell her if this sort of thing happens...”

I nod, “Okay, then tell her. If that’ll make you feel better it’s okay.”

He shakes his head, “I’m not going to. Just, I get that you don’t want to be here. None of us do. But if you just cooperate, tell her what she wants to hear, you’ll get out sooner. And try not to do anything like this. You can bullshit every conversation you have with her. But I’d really like if you’d talk to me.”

I shake my head, “Why are you here Joe?”

“I got carried away with drugs, you already know that.”

“No, I mean why are you still here? You seem like you’re fine. And I think you are. I think I know why you’re still here, pretending you still need help.”

“I’m not fine Patrick I, wait what do you think you know?” he raises an eyebrow and hands me paper towels to dry my arm off.

I dry off my arm and shrug, “You’re afraid that once you get out of here, get back into the world, you’ll get back into the drugs. And, you like to help people. Brendon, and me. You’re better at getting me to talk to you than she is. But maybe you aren’t completely fine... but that’s because you’re not opening up either. So maybe if you do, you won’t be so worried about getting back into bad habits. Some things here are fucking stupid, but the whole buddy system thing? It makes sense. Because if we have someone else here we can trust, then we’re bound to get better quicker.”

He bites his lip, “So much for cynicism... and yeah, I’m kinda afraid okay? Because they’re so easy to get to. I’ll have to lose contact with a lot of people I knew before. A lot of my friends are worse than I ever was...”

“What about Andy?”

He grins and shakes his head, “No, Andy’s too smart to touch the stuff. He’s straightedge. He wouldn’t have put me here though, if I just did a little, but I got dangerous with it. I overdosed a week before he brought me here. That fucker owes me waffles... What about Pete? Is he self destructive at all?”

I shrug, “Not really, not anymore. He hit a few rough patches in his life but now he’s got himself straightened out. He’s dating this girl who keeps him in line... I hate her and love her at the same time for keeping Pete sane.”

He nods and bites his lip, “So you’re jealous?”

“Of course I’m jealous... I’ve been in love with him for years.” I shrug, “But that girl? He’s going to marry her, he’d be stupid not to. They’re.... They’re good for each other as much as I hate to admit it.”

He nods, “So you need to let go then...”

I snort, “That’s what the vodka was for.”

“You don’t really strike me as someone who drinks...”

“I typically don’t... I hate it. But I hate myself more...”

He frowns, “As soon as I figure out how to stop hating myself, I’ll pass along the information. Because you’re too awesome to hate yourself.”

“Awesome? You don’t even know me.” I shrug.

“I know a lot more than you even realize you’re telling me. I believe eighty percent of conversation is body language.”

The bathroom door opens, making me jump. A guy with dark hair walks in and smiles.

“Hey Joe.”

“Hey Bren, this is Patrick.”

“Brendon.” the guys smiles at me, then frowns at my arm, “Ouch...” he glances up at Joe and grins, “He got a one time only pass didn’t he?”

Joe nods, “He just got here last night so-”

“You’re the one that almost escaped!” Brendon’s eyes widen. He has so much energy radiating off him, I feel like he’s draining my own.

I nod, “So close...”

“And yet, so far...” Brendon nods, “I tried escaping when I got here... well I mean, I tried to get out of their grip but I never even made it that far.”

“How’s the new roommate?” Joe grins at him.

Brendon blushes and looks down shyly, “Shut up Joe. I’m ah, gonna do what I came in here for so...”

“We’re leaving anyways.” Joe walks into the hall and holds the door for me as I follow him out.

“So now what?” I ask.

“Now, we can either go to the library, outside, or we can hang out in the room.” he shrugs.

“So basically, deal with people, deal with people, or just deal with you?” I say playfully, then shrug, “I vote the room.”

He nods, “Sounds good to me.”

 

We walk to the room and talk for a while before I fall asleep on his bed.


End file.
